


Everlong

by semperama



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 13:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4788356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semperama/pseuds/semperama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris goes with Zach to walk his dogs in the middle of the night and thinks about what they mean to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everlong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aprilleigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aprilleigh/gifts).



> I was already thinking about writing something about this lovely little moment in Pinto history, and then itreallyisthelittlethings sent me a prompt, so that settled on it. The impetus for this comes from [this](http://pine-farr.tumblr.com/post/128917880822/this-was-posted-around-2-am-vancouver-time) sighting of the guys together, walking Zach's dogs. (Damn, do we have the best OTP or what?)

Chris’s ears are still ringing by the time the car drops them back at the hotel. Exhaustion has made his body feel heavy and unmanageable, but his brain is buzzing, high off the excitement of the concert and the Red Bull he chugged about an hour ago to sustain him through the rest of the night. Now, he is in that in-between state, where he knows that he needs to sleep but he doesn’t particularly want to. Sleep seems like it would be a waste of time—time he could be spending with his friends, the rest of the cast, with...Zach.

They spill into the lobby like a pack of teenagers, boisterous and hyper and maybe all still a little drunk. Karl’s laugh echoes off the marble floors, and Sofia declares herself too tired to walk any farther and takes a running leap onto Zach’s back, who stumbles only a little before hooking his arms under her thighs. They would probably get a scolding from the staff if they weren’t, well, who they are. Chris hates to take advantage of his status like this, but he’s feeling too good to care much. Plus, it’s not like the lobby is packed at this hour. He does shoot an apologetic look at the tired-looking receptionist as they pass her though, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

Sofia slides off Zach’s back once they bundle into the elevator, and the four of them spend the next few floors chattering excitedly about the things they want to do tomorrow—breakfast, no, _brunch_ , and then maybe some sight-seeing. Vancouver is a great city. Chris thinks he’ll miss it when he goes back home. The older he gets, the more he thinks that home isn’t a set place anyway—it’s something that can go with you, if you find the right people to spend your time with. Or if you’re lucky enough that those people land right in your lap.

The elevator stops at Sofia’s floor first, then at Karl’s, with enthusiastic, too-loud goodnights each time. And then Chris and Zach are left alone, and it is relatively quiet for the first time that evening. It’s a good quiet, though—a welcome quiet. Zach yawns without bothering to cover his mouth, and that triggers a sympathy yawn from Chris, and then they’re both laughing quietly, shoulders shaking and curling inward like they have some instinct to hide their mirth. Chris knows they’re both thinking the same thing. _When did we get this old?_

“Guh,” Zach huffs, rubbing his eyes as his giggles fade. “I still have to walk the dogs.”

Chris doesn’t even need to take time to think before saying, “I’ll keep you company.”

“You sure?”

“Of course.” It somehow seems absurd that he would even think of letting Zach go for a walk at night in this beautiful city without him. No, this is the kind of thing they should do together.

Their rooms are on the same floor, Zach’s a little farther down the hallway, and Chris follows him to it. Once inside, the dogs snuffle happily around their feet, tails wagging so hard their whole bodies wiggle. Chris feels so full of sap tonight. As he bends down to scratch behind their ears and accept the required amount of kisses, he can’t help but think how much he loves these dogs—much more than a person probably should love dogs that don’t belong to them. He looks up at Zach, who is grabbing the leashes off the table, and smiles wide at him, a silent indication of how happy he is that he’s here, that they are here together. Zach smiles back. Chris can’t tell if the fondness in his gaze is for him or the dogs.

The elevator ride seems longer going down, or maybe that’s just the last of the night’s frenetic energy fading away. As they step out into the night again, everything feels heavier—but not in an uncomfortable way. Chris is just more aware of things. The way the air brushes up against his skin. The way Zach moves around him, the sound he makes as he breathes deep, pulling the Vancouver night into his lungs.

“Want to walk down to the harbour?” Zach asks.

“Yeah,” Chris agrees readily. If they are going to be out at this hour, they might as well make the most of it. Zach shifts the dog’s leashes to the hand furthest from Chris, and they fall in step.

It’s a perfect summer night, not too chilly, just humid enough that the air smells like summer. It could be any one of a hundred late-night walks they have taken together, through the streets of LA or New York or back from a club in Berlin or London. He doesn’t have concrete measure for the number of steps he has taken with Zach at his side, but he has plenty of abstract ones—some of his most memorable conversations, some of his biggest decisions, some of his most sincere laughter all occurred on nights like this, in moments like this. 

“I feel like I might sleep for ten years when all this is over,” Chris says. Because of course, when Zach is right beside him, all he can do is think about what will happen when he isn’t anymore. It’s a fucking curse.

Zach snorts. “You would deserve it. Seems like you’ve been the energizer bunny lately, one movie right into the next.”

“You should talk,” Chris says, stopping for a moment when Zach does, so Skunk can lift his leg at a tree. “That’s a pot-meet-kettle situation if I’ve ever heard one.”

“I had my vacation.” Zach shoots him a cautious look, then turns his face away again. Skunk finishes his business and they move on.

“Yeah, well,” Chris starts, without really knowing how he’s going to end that thought. A couple seconds of silence stretch between them before he finally says, “I like working. Doesn’t mean I don’t get tired though.”

“Mmm. Such is life.”

Chris grins, but he doesn’t try to piggy-back off that one, letting Zach have his moment of cliche. He wouldn’t be Zach if he wasn’t always ready with a trite line. At least he comes out with the real wisdom when it’s required of him.

The sidewalk winds away from the buildings and brings them right up alongside the water, and they both fall silent while they take it all in. A strip of green studded with trees follows the sidewalk on one side, and the harbour stretches out into the darkness on the other, the city lights reflecting off its calm surface. They stroll in and out of the orange light of the streetlamps, every once in a while passing another person. Apparently they aren’t the only two people in the city up at this ungodly hour of night. Chris almost resents that they aren’t. He doesn’t really want to share this with strangers.

“This is nice,” Zach says. Chris translates in his head: _This is really beautiful._ “Reminds me of Berlin, sort of. Walking by the river, you know?”

“A little,” Chris says. “No old buildings though.” The Vancouver skyline is decidedly modern, but that doesn’t make it any less aesthetically pleasing. Not in Chris’s opinion anyway. 

“And I’m also not drunk enough,” Zach says, shooting a grin in Chris’s direction. “God, I want to go back though. You think we’ll go there on the press tour again?”

“I can’t see why we wouldn’t.” Chris feels like shoving his hands in his pockets, but he resists. The press tour feels so far away right now. Will he see Zach, he wonders, between the end of filming and then? What would Zach think if he made a special trip out to see him? It’s been a while since he did that. Not that he’s been keeping track.

Maybe he’s been keeping track a little bit.

“Hey, Zach—” he starts, intending to ask him what his next plans are, but before he can get the question out, someone is saying his name. A stranger. A fan. Jesus, of course they’d run into a fan at two o’clock in the morning, when he’s helping Zach walk his dogs. 

He pastes on a smile and is as polite as he can be. Zach is more gregarious, shaking the guy’s hand and asking his name and asking why he’s out so late. _Coming back from some bar hopping. You guys?_ The conversation doesn’t last more than a couple minutes, and all-in-all it’s a good fan encounter, but Chris feels exposed. He was too far up inside his head a moment ago, too far inside the world where it’s just him and Zach and no one else. He is a little afraid that it shows on his face, that he is just one big neon sign blaring _Zach_ and nothing else.

Once they part ways with the guy, Zach looks over at him with a raised eyebrow, then claps his hand on the back of his neck, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Don’t sweat, Pine.”

“I’m not,” Chris pouts. He shrugs off Zach’s hand, but he immediately regrets it. It felt nice—his fingers cool and strong and calming. Zach always takes those encounters so much more in stride than he does, although Chris is getting better. He probably owes that much to Zach too.

“Here. Let’s go this way,” Zach says, pointing to a path that curves along by the water, toward where all the boats are docked. The other way seems to lead into a little park area, and Chris can see a small handful of people, some also walking their dogs, some probably stumbling home from a night of partying. The way Zach wants to go is deserted. Chris nods, relieved.

The water laps at the docks and the hulls of boats, the slap and gurgle mingling with the song of the crickets. They come to a little patch of grass and pause to let the dogs sniff around for a while. Chris turns toward the water, and Zach turns toward Chris, like he feels the need to keep one eye on the dogs and one eye on him. It’s hard not to notice how close he’s standing, but then again, Chris never did have any concept of personal space when it comes to Zach. Whatever bubble he has seems to have been built with a back door for Zach to sneak in through.

“Could we do this forever?” Chris says, on the end of a deep sigh. “Could we just keep making movies until...until we’re too old to work anymore?”

“Until they reboot us and put new, hot, young people in our roles?” Zach amends, a grin in his voice. Chris can’t help but grin too, turning his face back toward Zach for a moment. 

“Yeah, until then.”

Zach’s smile slips just a little bit. “I don’t know. I don’t know if that’s in the cards for us or not.”

“What if I want it to be?”

They hold each other’s gaze for a long moment, but Zach is ultimately the one that folds, his eyes casting out toward the harbour. “You worried about something, Pine?”

Chris shrugs, even though Zach isn’t looking at him anymore. “I’m worried about...about losing this, I guess. Moments like this. I’m worried it won’t feel like this anymore.”

“Worried what won’t feel like what?”

It’s a little startling that Zach asks him to clarify. Usually Chris can be vague with him, and he just seems to get it, like he has a direct window into Chris’s mind. The hint of weedling in his voice, the hint of breathlessness, makes Chris’s stomach do a little swoop, and he licks his lips nervously. The fact is, he has no idea what he’s really trying to say. There is no name that he’s aware for for the feeling he’s feeling now, like he’s nostalgic for something that’s still right in front of him. Zach has been in his life almost ten years, and it’s hard to imagine that he’ll ever slip out of it again, and yet Chris doesn’t think they could ever have enough time. It’s all just a series of moments, like a rock skipping across a pond. The ripples spread through the entirety of Chris’s life, but the points where he and Zach actually make contact never last long enough.

“We’ve known each other a long time,” Chris says, dodging Zach’s question.

“Yeah, we have,” Zach agrees. His eyes are boring into the side of Chris’s face again.

“We’re going to know each other for a lot more time, right?” he asks.

There is a moment of silence in which Chris is stupidly, pointlessly afraid of what Zach is going to say. Like he’s going to tell Chris no, tell him he never wants to see him again once they’re done with these Trek movies. But then Zach shifts and sighs dramatically, letting his arm brush against Chris’s.

“Well, unless you get hit by a bus…”

The black humor dissolves the tension, pulling Chris out of his stupid over-worrying brain and showing him how ridiculous he’s being. He crumbles into a bout of giggles, turning toward Zach and elbowing him in the ribs. “Why do _I_ have to be the one that gets hit by a bus, huh?”

“Because I’m smart enough to look both ways, obviously,” Zach says, grinning.

“What if the bus jumps the curb?”

“Then promise you’ll put flowers on my grave.”

Chris snorts, looking down at Zach’s shoes. “What makes you think I’d mourn your irritating ass?”

“Honey, we both know I’m the best thing that ever happened to you.”

He laughs, but it’s the fucking truth, and he doesn’t have to confirm it for them both to know that. And that’s the thing. That’s why it’s stupid for him to be thinking that Zach is just going to skip out of his life. What they have isn’t the kind of relationship that comes along just every day. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing. It’s a walking-the-dogs-together-at-2-a.m. kind of thing. Maybe Zach doesn’t just live a few blocks away anymore, and maybe they don’t get to see each other as much as Chris would like, but when they do, it’s always going to be just like this—quiet and comfortable and easy and perfect.

Maybe it’s a little understandable that Chris is neurotic about holding onto the only person in the world who makes him feel this way, but it’s good to be reminded that he has nothing to be afraid of. Zach isn’t itching to leave him in the dust. And maybe, just maybe, he feels the same way Chris does.

Zach picks up after the dogs and chucks the baggie in a wastebin, and they start their slow walk back toward the hotel. The conversation flows a little more freely now. They swap stories about bad experiences from their previous shoots and gush about how rejuvenating it’s been to work on Trek again, with people who are like family and who make work fun. Sure, they’re tired, but their chosen career is always tiring. Tonight they went to a concert with people whose company they genuinely enjoy, and tomorrow they’ll see those people again and not be sick of them, and you just can’t trade that for any amount of money. It’s good. Everything is good.

When they reach the hotel again, it feels too soon, even though Chris’s limbs are leaden now with fatigue. He hopes no one tries to get him up for brunch any earlier than 10 a.m., because he plans to be dead to the world. Not even food is worth giving up his good night’s sleep. Well. Depending on the food.

He doesn’t realize he’s followed Zach all the way back to his room until they are actually at the door again. Zach has both of the dog’s leashes, so there was no reason for Chris not to peel off at the door of his own suite, but now he is here, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot while Zach puts his key in the door. At the green light, he twists the handle and lets the dogs wander inside, then turns back toward Chris with a smile. 

“Thanks for coming with me, man. I appreciated the company.”

“Don’t mention it,” Chris says, waving the appreciation away. “It was a nice night. I didn’t want it to end yet.”

He still doesn’t, not really, but they have come to the end of the acceptable activities. It’s so, so late, and they should both be in bed. 

“Yeah, I….yeah,” Zach says. He reaches out and squeezes Chris’s bicep. “Good night, Chris.”

Chris lets himself be pulled into a hug—a real, _good_ hug. Zach’s arms wrap all the way around his back, and there is no awkward thumping or rush to pull away. Chris holds on just as tight, ignoring the flutter in his chest that tells him that this is weird, this moment doesn’t require nearly this level of intimacy.

“Good night,” he whispers, though he’s immediately embarrassed that it comes out as a whisper. He’s even more embarrassed when Zach huffs a laugh into the crook of his neck, his warm breath on Chris’s skin making him want to shiver. 

It happens as they’re pulling apart. Chris plans to back away quickly, turn and walk as fast as he can back to his room before he does or says anything else stupid, but one of Zach’s arms is still around him, and his other hand finds Chris’s chin, and before Chris can even register what’s happening, Zach’s mouth is pressed to his. His lips are warm, a little chapped from the breeze that was coming off the water. He smells like beer and salt water. His grip is firm on Chris’s chin, holding him close like he’s afraid he would want to pull away. Chris doesn’t want to pull away. He lets out a little hum to tell Zach as much.

Emboldened, Zach shifts his hand to the back of Chris’s neck and coaxes his mouth open, sneaking his tongue inside to brush carefully along Chris’s. Zach might let out a groan then, but Chris can’t tell for sure—it’s too low, it rumbles through his chest but doesn’t quite make it to his ears. Then, Zach is pulling away—not far away, but far enough. Far enough for Chris to see that his eyes are still closed, like he’s savoring it. Or like he wants to hide from Chris’s expression. The way he tugs Chris in and rests their foreheads together seems to suggest the latter.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

Chris doesn’t understand. “Don’t be sorry.”

“You’re not…?” Zach opens his eyes, backs off just a fraction of an inch so he can study Chris’s face.

“I’m not,” Chris confirms. Not sorry. Not freaking out. Not regretting it. Maybe regretting that it didn’t happen before now.

Zach is silent for a moment, breathing heavy, his gaze on Chris’s mouth. Chris lets him process, but he has nothing to think about himself. The moment Zach’s lips touched his, it was like everything, the past eight years of his life, clicked into place. _Oh, that’s why. That’s why I feel this way._ But Zach still needs a minute, and Chris isn’t going to rush him.

Finally, Zach lets out a breathy little chuckle and tightens his hold on the back of Chris’s neck. “Can I kiss you again?”

Chris grins. It seems like such a silly question now. A no-brainer. He reaches past Zach to push the door open wider and nudges him backward into the room, following in behind him.

“Zach, you can kiss me always.”

**Author's Note:**

> Check out [this awesome graphic](http://silent-bridge.tumblr.com/post/128983792164/what-they-have-isnt-the-kind-of-relationship) that SilentBridge made!


End file.
